


the other one

by orphan_account



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Multiple chapters, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-30 04:28:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21422191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You'd only been following them because of Tim, you told yourself. It had nothing to do with a sexy blonde and a lovely astrophysicist, so why were you sticking with them, and not him? You knew full well that Tim had made his own decision when he left Smile, cutting off his relationship with you and the boys.What you didn't know how far it would take you.
Relationships: Brian May & Reader, Brian May/Roger Taylor/Reader, Brian May/You, Roger Taylor (Queen)/Reader
Kudos: 15





	1. he's not as he seems

**Author's Note:**

> follow my tumblr @rogah-wrote-gaga for chapter updates/posting schedule, and feel free to dm me if you have any questions or requests, or if you want to be added to my taglist :)

The pub was as busy as always. Sighing, you walked over to the bar, hopped up on a barstool, and ordered a pint of beer. Your first year of university had taken its toll on you: you came to this bar to relax. Up on the small deck that served as a stage was your best friend Tim, with two others who you didn’t know too well, performing as the band ‘Smile’.

You sipped your drink as Tim started to croon into the mic and focused your attention on the blond drummer. Tim had introduced you a few weeks back, and you couldn’t remember anything about him except that he always seemed to have a girl draped on his arm. The guitarist’s name was Brian, and he was in your Mathematics class. He was the smartest guy in the class when he bothered to turn up; you heard that Physics was his main passion, alongside making music. His hair was one giant ball of frizz as he bobbed about the stage, and you smiled to yourself, knowing that he had probably tried to brush out his curls.

The band finished playing “Earth” to a round of half-hearted applause, and Tim sauntered off the stage towards where you sat at the bar, ordering himself a pint in the process. “Hey, y/n, enjoy the show?” he grinned.  
“You only played one song. And it was boring.” You only said this because you knew it would annoy him; he was very proud of his work. “Well, you certainly looked like you enjoyed it.” Tim said this with a wink and a nod towards the drummer, who was making his way through the crowds that had suddenly appeared when he had left the stage. Rolling your eyes, you turned back to Tim, who was smiling obnoxiously at you. “Catch you later, y/n!” 

You didn’t want to head back to your dorm just yet, so you stayed at the bar, observing people quietly. It wasn’t until you were halfway through your second pint that you realised the drummer of Tim’s band had just sat down next to you. “Hey.” You turned to him in surprise; his voice was so unlike his singing in the band (to be fair, you had only ever heard him singing in falsetto). It was scratchy and gravelly, and you could see why girls were constantly falling at his feet. His eyes were the bluest you had ever seen, and his hair was a shining blonde. If he were a girl, he probably would’ve been exactly Tim’s type. “Hi.” He gulped down the rest of his drink and smiled; his teeth were even and white. “So, I saw you looking at me.”

Great. He was one of those. You knew the type. Cocky, self-satisfied bastards who thought they could have their way with any girl they wanted. Hell, they probably did. “Who would want to look at you?” you muttered, staring at the dusty floorboards. The silence was what made you look up. The drummer was staring at you with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He seemed to notice you had looked up, and snapped out of it pretty quickly, shaking his head and stuttering, “Look, uh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. My name’s Roger. Roger Taylor.” 

He offered out a hand as he said this, looking away with what you recognised as embarrassment and perhaps even shame. “I’m y/n,” you said as you gripped his hand and shook it firmly. Roger reached under his shirt with one hand, rubbing a shoulder, still not looking at you.

“Yeah, I know. You’re Tim’s mate? We, uh, were introduced. A couple weeks back. You study Maths and Psychology, right? At Brian’s college, I think you said.” He was talking really fast, his eyes darting around, avoiding your gaze. You were surprised that he remembered so much about you and a little ashamed that you couldn’t remember a single thing about him. He suddenly seemed kind of shy, maybe even scared. “Yeah, that’s right. And you’re a… medical student?” you guessed, grimacing to yourself when Roger shook his head. “Dentistry,” he muttered. “And I absolutely hate it. But hey, gotta do what you gotta do to keep your parents happy, I guess.”  
He didn’t seem to be on the verge of continuing, so you asked him what he did in his spare time. 

He perked up a bit at that, and seemed to partially revert back into his original, confident manner, his voicing raising pitch until he almost sounded like a girl. “Yeah, well, obviously I’m drumming in this band, and I absolutely love music, y’know, I’d want to do it all my life if I could. I like fiddling around with cars, too, absolutely love cars. But music is my main goal, I guess, used to play the guitar and even a bit of ukulele!” You laughed at that, trying to picture him strumming what you visualised as a very tiny guitar. “But then I tried out the drums, and not to boast or anything, but I was, and am, bloody brilliant. I just have this kind of knack for it.” In your mind, you agreed; he added a flair to Tim’s music with interesting rhythms and constantly wasted time twirling his drumsticks, still finding time to hit every beat perfectly. “But enough about me. What do you like to do?” 

This surprised you. Most of the guys that had tried to hit on you (and there weren’t many) talked about themselves for hours then asked at the very end if you were u for a quick shag. This had led to your poor opinion on most men, except your brother, who was your brother, and Tim, because he was your best friend.

“Well, I like reading. And writing.” This was the most you’d ever been able to get out before whatever man you were currently entertaining passed out with boredom. You hesitated, but Roger gestured for you to go on, with what seemed like genuine interest. “And, uh, I was gonna take English Lit at uni, but there was this thing with my application…”  
And so it went. He let you talk for as long as you pleased, interjecting only to ask questions and even laughing at your terrible anecdotes. Then you carried on talking, about everything from his favourite colour to your taste in music. He insisted on paying for the next three rounds, by the end of which you were both slightly tipsy.  
“So, why d’you c’mere then? If you don’t like Tim?”  
You gestured around wildly, trying to think. “No, no, no, I do like Tim. But not, y’know, like that. You know what I mean. He’s just not… sexy.” Roger laughed.  
“Sexy?”  
“Oh, you know what I mean.”  
Roger waggled his eyebrows at you before continuing, “Am I sexy?”  
“Very,” you assured him with a laugh. And he was. So, when you leant forwards and kissed him, it didn’t feel forced at all.

Groaning, you sat up from your bed with a headache. You couldn’t remember having that much to drink last night and was surprised when you sat up in unfamiliar surroundings. All you could vaguely remember was stumbling towards a black cab before someone had grabbed you and snatched you away from it. You were also aware that you were definitely not in your dorm. You sat up in a whiz, knowing that if you were not in your dorm and none of your friends had been with you, you were probably kidnapped. “Shit, shit, shit,” you muttered as you scrambled your way out of bed. You were on the verge of hoisting yourself out of the 2nd floor window amidst your mini panic attack when someone walked in.

“Uh, hey. Wh-Why are you trying to climb out my window?”  
“Roger!” You ran towards him and collapsed into his arms. “I thought- I thought that-” Laughing, Roger stepped away from you. “You thought what? That I had kidnapped you? y/n, you were this close to getting run over by this random car.” You pushed his fingers away from where they were dangling in front of your face. “I was trying to hail a cab!”  
“That wasn’t a cab, it was just some black jeep with a middle aged man in it.” You shook your head, adamant that you hadn’t been that drunk, but the grin didn’t leave Roger’s face and you couldn’t think of any other way you could’ve ended up in his flat. “So you brought me here. Thanks.” 

He stepped away again, turning his back to you and rubbing the back of his neck, as walked into what looked like a kitchen, mumbling, “It was no problem. Uh, would you like something to drink?” You raised your eyebrows, surprised at the sudden change in character. “No, thanks. Where exactly are we?” you asked, following him to where he now stood, leaning against the counter. You couldn’t help but notice that he only had a tiny pair of shorts on which barely covered his boxers, and an unbuttoned shirt, exposing his chest and small tummy.  
“In my flat. I’m staying here while I’m at uni; the rent’s cheap and the neighbours aren’t too loud.”

“No, I got that we were in your flat, but where is your flat located? Sorry, I sound like a stalker.” Roger gave you a weird look. “But you’re in my flat anyway. That doesn’t exactly make you a stalker. And we’re still in London, don’t worry, I haven’t carted you off to Land’s End just yet. Anyway, why are we standing around in the kitchen? I’ve got a very comfortable sofa, trust me.” You blushed slightly at the innuendo, and followed him through a small door that led into a fairly cramped living area, with a drum kit squished into one corner and stacks of vinyls, cd’s and books in another. In the middle against a wall was a two seater couch. You watched as Roger plonked himself on the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down next to him. 

You sat down, and mentally noted the contact your thighs and arms made; you weren’t sure if it was normal, but you loved being touched by people. It didn’t even have to be sexual; you were so deprived of physical contact (Tim wasn’t a big hugger) that even a simple hug made you feel warm and happy. Roger seemed to notice how comfortable you were, and slipped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you towards him so that your head was resting on his chest. Your ear was pressed so close to his bare skin that you could hear his heart racing. Eyes closed, you sighed contentedly. “You comfortable there, y/n?” Roger’s breath was hot against your ear as you breathed in his scent. “Because we can always go and lie on the bed if you’d prefer.” That made you sit up pretty quick, blood thundering in your ears. “I’m not- I didn’t mean- I just thought, it might be more comfortable? I wasn’t trying to make you feel aw-” You held a finger to Roger’s lips so he would stop the unnecessary stuttering. “I’d like to.”  
“Y-You would?” Roger seemed genuinely amazed. 

“Of course I would. Let’s go.” you said, jumping off the sofa and leading the way to the bedroom.  
You lay back down on the bed, snuggling into the cold sheets while Roger lay down next to you. It was hard to tell whether he wanted you or not; he lay there beside you, not moving an inch. “Rog? Are you alright?”

He closed his eyes and turned away from you. “I just- I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had sex, I’ve never had a blowie, I’d never even had a good snog before yesterday. And I know it sounds stupid, y/n, so goddamn stupid, but I-, I’m just… scared…” His voice trailed off as you sank into his back, grasping his middle and laying your head just below his neck. “Why are you scared, Rog?” you whispered, as gently as possible. He stiffened beside you, trying to escape from your grip. “Well...uh...I dunno, I guess, uh, maybe, it- it might hurt?” This was not what you expected; then again, everything that had happened with Roger so far had been unpredictable.

But your very first impression of him, before you’d even spoken to each other, was that he was probably a good lay, he oozed self-confidence, and that he could pull any girl he wanted. But it seems you’d only got two of those assumptions right; he certainly had girls swooning over him, but he hadn’t seem interested in any of them, and now he was lying here next you explaining why he was still a virgin. You’d guessed his age at being about 20 or so; he was still at uni, after all, just like you. 

“Do you ever think about it?” He sighed, the frustration in his voice evident.  
“I think about it all the bloody time! An’ it’s not like I don’t want to, it's just, I don’t know how- an’ I don’t know when or where or just- I don’t know what to do! I know for a fact that you don’t lie around talking, but I just don’t have the experience, and that makes me think no-one wants to shag me. I don’t know if it’s because I’m bad at flirting or whatever, but-” 

He trailed off again, and you pushed yourself up on one elbow to see that his eyes were still squeezed tightly shut, small drops of water forcing their way through. 

“Oh, Roger, that doesn’t matter! You don’t need any experience. Surely you’ve seen the girls practically lining up for you. As long as you enjoy yourself when you do it, then that’s fine,” you said, squirming internally. 

You weren’t good at comforting people; you had a tendency to miraculously disappear whenever someone needed your shoulder to cry on. But there was no way you could leave the beautiful sobbing mess by himself without mentally beating yourself up for at least a week. “I’m here for you, Rog; whether you want me as your first sexual encounter,” You tried to inject some provocativeness into your voice as you said this, trailing your hand up his thigh deliberately in an effort to make him laugh, “Or as your fellow struggling student who just wants to focus on the things they love.” 

You could feel that Roger had calmed down by then; he was no longer shaking and the tears had stopped. You held him, gently, not wanting to pressure him. His breathing slowed in your arms, and you felt the slow tendrils of sleep pulling both of you under.


	2. no, he's not as he seems...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hadn’t eaten since the day before yesterday, it was 5 in the morning, and you were starving. The fridge had nothing worth eating inside of it, unless you were a fan of old ham. A key turned in the lock, making you jump.
> 
> “Roger! You scared me to deat-” You froze. The tall man standing in front of you, staring at you with a look of shock, was most definitely not Roger. “Brian?”

The clock on the bedside table next to you read 4:12am. A handwritten note lay beside it. Yawning, you leant over to grab the note, squinting in the early morning light to decipher the elegant scrawl.   
Dear y/n,  
I have an early morning class. Made you tea- might be cold now. I’ll be back at 9. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. My keys are on the table if you want to go anywhere, decided to walk today. Don’t hesitate to make yourself feel at home. I’ve left some clothes on the chair for you, not much choice though, sorry!

Love, Rog. xo

You smiled as you finished reading the message, then heaved yourself out of bed. You were still in your clothes from the night before last, and you really needed a shower. Wandering around through the corridors, you found the bathroom, and stripped off your clothes. You stepped into the shower and let the hot water wash over you as you thought over everything that had happened last night. 

A small spark lit up in you everytime you thought of Roger and his sweet little note; soft, warm, faint, but definitely there. 

Stop it, you muttered to yourself. He’s just playing with your feelings. Now is NOT the time to be harbouring a fluttery crush on someone you just met. Sighing, you got out of the shower and wrapped yourself in a towel, carefully making your way back to the bedroom. You wrinkled your nose at the choice of clothes lying on the chair: Roger had clearly tried his best, but all you could see were old lady’s gowns that probably belonged to his mum.

Instead, you walked over to the wardrobe, pulled on one of his boxers and your bra, and settled for a plain white shirt and some shorts. Once dressed, you sat back down on the bed, rereading the note, and wondering what to do while you waited for Roger to come home. Driving back to yours was out; he probably needed his car and he didn’t know where you lived. You could always leave him your telephone number, but to tell the truth, you wanted to see him again as soon as possible. It was lucky that you had no classes that weekend.

You hadn’t eaten since the day before yesterday, it was 5 in the morning, and you were starving. The fridge had nothing worth eating inside of it, unless you were a fan of old ham. A key turned in the lock, making you jump.

“Roger! You scared me to deat-” You froze. The tall man standing in front of you, staring at you with a look of shock, was most definitely not Roger. “Brian?”

“Who are you?”  
You rubbed the back of your neck, grimacing. “I’m, uh, Tim’s friend? We’ve already... met? Roger, well, he took me home… two nights ago?”  
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, eyes still darting around the room frantically. “Course, Tim’s left, and I’m going nuts trying to find a new singer, and Roger misses practice again for another goddamn girl?!”

“Another girl?”

He shifted his gaze up to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t aimed at you. y/n, was it? I remember you now, the small one always hanging around with Tim. Bastard.” He spat out the name with a glare in his eyes you’d never expect to see based on his gentle demeanor. You took a step back, lost for words. Tim was highly passionate about his music, and you’d never known him to spontaneously back out of things. 

But besides that, there was that dreaded word. Another. The horrid implication that you weren’t Roger’s only girl, that he was lying to you all along

“I’m sorry, Brian, I didn’t know,” you managed to stutter. He sighed.

“S’all right, not your fault. C’mon, I’ll drive you home. Roger’s not gonna be back till late, probably off to shag another one of his classmates.” He glanced back at you with the ghost of a smile etched upon his face, probably expecting you to laugh along with him.

“He told me he was a virgin.”

“What?”

“He said, he was a virgin, he’d never had sex, because he was too scared.” 

"What?!" He uttered, more forcefully than before. "He never stops bragging about his sex life. And he told you… he told you he was a…" spluttered Brian. 

"Well, maybe he's been lying to you lot, so he wouldn't look stupid," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as you were trying to convince him. “He sounded pretty sincere.”

“Look, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve seen the amount of girls hanging off his arm, and he hooks up with at least half of them! I know it’s probably not what you want to hear right now, but you gotta get over it. C’mon, I did say I’d drive you home.”

With a sigh, you followed him out the door, only stopping to grab your dirty clothes and assorted possessions.   
The drive home was relatively quiet: Brian could tell that you weren’t really in the mood for a chat. You were sitting beside him as he focused on the road, music blasting from the radio. Thoughts were running through your head at record speeds; anger, betrayal confusion. Initially, you had been angry that Roger had lied to you, especially since he had gotten your hopes up by not acting like a bastard. But you were growing more and more confused. Why would he lie about being a virgin? Surely, to impress you, he’d say he wasn't a virgin? 

You instinctively wanted to believe Brian. There was something about him that made you think you could trust him with your life.

You also wanted to believe Roger. But until he could get home and give you a proper explanation, there wasn’t much you could do. So you bathed in the awkward silence, trying instead to think about how much work you had to catch up on.


End file.
